Famous Last Words
by A Concerned Individual
Summary: A crisis involving military infiltration, a woman addicted to a life that isn't hers, and an unusual kind of tension between Wolf & Leon.
1. Enter Venom

**F a m o u s L a s t W o r d s**

**A/N : **Wow, my first real delve into (serious!) StarFox fanfiction. / This story will focus on StarWolf (post 64, pre Assault) but I plan to incorporate Fox & chums into it. Rated for unkindly language and possible future content. Pairings TBA. And with that, we begin!

**-- -- -- -- --**

He paced the length of the room, wringing his hands, as his students watched him, whispering amongst themselves. He'd been exceptionally moody lately - sometimes he failed to showed up at all, and other times, would speak only grudgingly in huffs, then abandon the effort, storming out the door. Today he was jumpy, fidgety, and tended to drift off in the middle of every other sentence. He seemed a lot older than he was.

Suddenly she walked in the door, young and 21, eyes vacant, slinking into her seat without even giving an excuse, and all eyes were on her and her obvious belly that seemed so unnatural to the arms and legs that were so thin.

He too had his gaze locked on her ghastly gray skin and sickly figure, broodingly, silently making his inquiry.

"I was at the doctor's." She explained to him.

He nodded slightly in understanding, and finally turned to face the board, until she spoke again.

"I killed the baby."

The chalk slipped from his fingers and was shattered to dust on impact.

--

Somewhere in the darkness of Sector Z, a forlorn place wrecked by war, empty for naught but space debris drifting by, quiet but for the occasional collision between directionless, abandoned and mutilated warcraft, there sounded an ear splitting exultation of some sort…

As the cork flew, irrelevantly, unceremoniously. Wolf didn't flinch despite the ringing in his sensitive ears. Without bothering to pour himself a cup, he instead took a hearty swig from the glass lip of the bottle itself. The liquid slipped between his lips, some dribbled down to his chin, and he knew later it meant matted, sticky fur.

He brought the glass down to the tabletop again with a _thud_, which seemed to echo through the empty void of space around them. Whether it was champagne, booze, liquor, he couldn't remember. Whatever it was, he could feel his limbs grow heavier and his already Cyclops vision diluted. At the same time, a sweet wave of nothing washed over his mind.

Leon was eying him from across the table, a half-lidded, almost disinterested gaze that was typical of him. He sipped casually from a thick glass of unknown contents, and his eyes never left his comrade's face.

"A little early to celebrate." He noted.

"Who says I'm bloody celebrating." Came the grumble. "I needed a drink."

His words hung on the empty air for a while, until his counterpart spoke up again.

"You raided the supply cabinet, focused on the glass bottles in the back, ignoring all other, then carelessly, greedily downing it as a hopeless drunkard, or a regular bum trying to hide from his torment." The way Leon maintained this elaborate metaphor with such seemingly machinelike disinterest… was disturbing. "What is the occasion?"

"Don't play dumb, damn you." Wolf hissed. "We're fighting a futile battle. Against StarFox, Corneria's prized band of…!"

"The war is over. Now you're just an enemy mercenary on the run, downing his fears in alcohol, the same as any normal fool." The reptile took a casual sip.

Wolf felt the muscles in his face tense, but he knew better than to mess with his wingmate, subordinate or not. He was sitting across from one of the most dreaded names in the Lylat system: Powalski the torturer. The manner in which he committed his unspeakable duties had spread to the farthest corners of the galaxy; how, without a faltering face, he left victims mangled, disfigured, sometimes alive, left with a broken body to mourn their last few hours in solitude. He probably had a knife hidden somewhere under the layers of his uniform, ready for easy accessibility and a swift uppercut into thin, vulnerable flesh…

"The war isn't over." Wolf hissed. "There's still resistance-"

"You mean Oikonny's circus?" Leon countered. He had never been particularly fond of his former copilot, someone he claimed to be a pompous, spoiled brat with only a name to boast of. "StarFox and the Cornerian fleet have leveled the Venomese base to the ground. Andross has been annihilated. What prompts you to think that his mindless spazz of a nephew could possibly take down the Cornerian empire?"

Wolf was only half-listening, messily dosing himself on alcohol once more.

"Leon…" he managed, the intoxication apparent now. "I don't give a damn about this war, or the fact that the Cornerian republic will pay my murderer like a damned _king_."

"You just don't like to lose," Leon smirked.

"Shut up." Wolf growled lamely between gulps as he finished off the rest of the glass.

Tension between the pair had been high. They'd both been happy to see Pigma go - revolting, gluttonous swine that he was. And when you got past the fact that his betrayal led to the death of James McCloud, he wasn't much for their image anyway. But Pigma's presence revolved around keeping himself in the limelight; as a result, conversations never reached a fantastically grim point, and afterwards the hog was a subject of much backtalkery. He gave Wolf and Leon somebody to loathe together.

Yet, despite the recent loss of Andrew, the wild card, and Pigma, the reckless glutton, StarWolf team was anything but levelheaded as two brooding, clever personalities fought for domination.

Abruptly, "Wolf…"

Wolf O'Donnell, intoxicated leader of the StarWolf team-turned-pair of mercenaries, let his eyes drift to the window overlooking deep space. A pair of red lights could be seen in the distance; they became brighter and brighter until visible behind them was a small vessel traveling at a constant speed.

"A police cruiser." Leon noted grimly, but the urgency in his voice was gone.

"Oh _hell_..!" Wolf attempted to stand, slumped against the table for support. "Perfect timing. How were we tracked?"

"It's a single, slim vessel, designed for stealth and surveillance, not combat." Leon noted aloud. His deep, accented voice stayed calm but with a note of unsettlement. "They weren't tracking us, but I wouldn't be surprised if we're the reason that it's out here."

"Looking for us? Those…" Wolf slipped into a slur of disjointed profanity and fell back into his chair, groping his stomach suddenly. "Go smash 'em."

Leon just sat there, knowing that the intoxication was hindering his comrade's judgement, still quick to chastise him nonetheless. "You fool. Destroying an insignificant surveillance vessel will have the entire Cornerian fleet on our tail before we make it out of the Sector. Get to the floor."

Mind swirling about in a drunken haze, Wolf took orders without trouble, and once he was on the floor his attention averted to his partner in crime. He sat crouched, almost dead motionless, though his tail was still entangled in several chair legs, something which he'd always had a bad habit of doing.

His eye continued to wander, an entity of its own without direction. The closest thing Wolf had to a friend - known to most of Lylat as "the Tormentor" - was years his senior, but as far as looks were concerned, he hadn't changed since his life's prime. Eyes sly, conniving, hiding something bigger, more powerful within them. His skintight uniform gripped a svelte figure, showing indications of scales underneath.

Cuts and scars were also quite apparent, but such was definitely not uncommon among Venomese ranks.

And then he did it, and Wolf flinched; Leon's eye swiveled around in its socket and focused in on him, without the slightest head motion. There was more than one reason for Leon's being able to scare the hell out of people.

"You're a hopeless alcoholic," He commented, amused.

"You, go to hell," Wolf hissed back between clenched teeth, once again conscious of his stomach.

The rumble of the engine shook through the room, rattling the liquor bottles as the cruiser drew closer. Soon it was practically upon them. Wolf kept still, save for a few haughty drunken coughs and wheezes, invisible sounds against the cruiser's turbines. Within a minute they could distinguish the faces of the pilots; a middle-aged raccoon at the controls and a much younger spaniel beside him, possibly a trainee. The vehicle slowed to a stop about 30 feet away, landing on the provided space.

The cockpit swung open and the two stepped into the artificial atmosphere bubble that enveloped the place. The raccoon, heftier in stature, stumbled up and cautiously made his way to ground, while the young spaniel maneuvered gracefully out of her seat, saluting her partner before falling into stead behind him. The duo made their way to doorway, the door severed from its hinges and the keycard slot jammed.

"This is the beauty of taking pitstops in abandoned Cornerian outpost quarters." Leon mumbled. Careful to stay enshrouded in shadow, he watched the two make their way in through the front of the building, and with a couple of stairs and a few corridors they would make it to the dining hall where they were positioned.

Wolf just sighed; who knew how many of those cruisers he had felled in all of his duties. He reached systematically for his blaster, nestled in the pocket of his slacks. Leon was already stationed at the door, phaser cocked and ready.

The faint mumble of the officers' exchanges drifted about. It started to ascend in volume, accompanied by a chorus of doors opening, boxes being moved. And then, they were in hearing range.

"Targets confirmed - they're definitely in this sector, over." A young woman's voice - the spaniel.

Then an older, scratchier voice - male. "Commissioner, you want we should send troops to the neighboring outpost?"

And then they were right outside. Wolf, drunken and impaired, crouched beneath the table, ready to evade fire if he had to. He felt the fur on his neck begin to stiffen - a sure sign of anxiety before the attack.

"The dining hall's directly ahead. Proceed with caution."

Leon simply steadied his weapon.

Suspense was heavy on Wolf's warm forehead, he reached up to steady himself, the sudden headache…

The sound of the handle turning, lock unclicking, boots made a confident yet cautious strut forward…

An onslaught of blaster fire pierced the open air, Leon was all over them. There was no scream, no cry, no plea, nothing but laser sounds - they'd hit the floor so quickly that Wolf could hardly catch the transition.

Leon turned around suddenly, and he didn't even pause to admire his handiwork, a small heap of bodies carelessly slung upon one another. This surprised Wolf.

"Out," He commanded.

Forcing himself to concentrate Wolf rolled out from beneath his wooden shelter, quick on his comrade's tail. But then, a sudden pain in his leg…! He stumbled forward, felt blood. The room was shaking…

Wolf's grunts and wheezes faded into the background. Leon had frozen at the gunshot, and now stood with his back to the door. The only movement came from his slitted pupils, now rotating to face the source of fire.

The spaniel stood poised at the doorway, seemingly unscathed, one finger still loosely caressing the trigger, a smirk contorting that sweet young face. There was a cunning, confident air to her, one that showed intelligence and wit behind it (as they were definitely not one and the same), and he had seen that look before, and it seemed so familiar, but so out of place on that muzzle…

"Ah, Professor," she now looked directly at the aging chameleon, an unreadable look in her eye. "Been a while, huh?"

"Have we met before?" He inquired icily, still with his back to her. "I assure you you're much too young to have been one of _my_ students,"

She gave an odd, grim sort of smile, then averted her gaze to some buttons on her gauntlet, slim fingers aptly prodding at the small buttons. Leon watched, with clear apathy, as her blonde fur started to billow in the airless room; then turning bronze, brown, gray… The change was invisible at first until you realized it wasn't a lighting trick on her long hair.

Wolf shut his eye and grunted - blood was seeping through his trousers, staining them, engulfing them and starting to discolor the hard tile floor. The sense of vertigo was strong, joint faults of alcohol and blood loss. He felt Leon's presence above him, heard voices in the background; he hadn't cared to tune in yet.

"My apologies, O'Donnell." Even spared the visual, Wolf instantly recognized that voice. It was so much different from the soft, feminine tones he had picked up on a minute ago. "Normally those who assault a Venomese Commissioner are greeted with death, but given the circumstances…"

"Bitch," he said.

"Venomese Mercenary Head Commissioner Styx," She corrected him. "Fortunately, I'm not here to pick at grudges."

He swung his head and threw his gaze behind him, and there stood Amuro Styx, gun still in hand. She must've been in her mid-thirties now, her lovely faux youth gone, with deathly pallid scales where the sunny fur once glimmered. Age had done little to her. She had grown into her frame, at least, and no longer looked like a sickly skeleton, although there was still no color in her skin. Choppy black hair framed her face and curtained her eyes; they, most of all, hadn't changed, dark and spacious as if an endless void existed behind them.

The intricate golden badge on her breast stole away form her equally bleak uniform.

"I see you've leveled up." Leon spoke up at last - and the anticipation broke as Wolf let out his breath.

She stared right into him, locking eye contact. But his face never faltered, even as he felt the many years' kindling of resentment unwinding between their eyes.

"Why yes…" The woman muttered hesitantly, as if intimidated by his confidence.

"But no matter what, you'll always be my little _murderer_."

Wolf watched him spit out that last word, as if it were venom. She seemed to choke at the sound of it, flinching.

"That… is an unfit way to speak to your new commissioner." Came the huffed response at last. "Personal matters stay out of business. If you'll take over, _General_?"

The raccoon stepped forward, and the two mercenaries gawked at him.

It was then he triggered his own horrific transformation. Iron white fur took the place of tawny fuzz, the mask-like face became accented and regal. Tufts of fur darkened to strong black stripes in contrast. A great tiger formed from a ridiculous animal, and now he stood, postured, staring down his company with silver eyes of steel.

The scratchy voice was gone as well - now deep, distinguished, menacing.

"Remember me, gentlemen?"

"_Strype_? You're-" Wolf trailed off. But he was almost certain that their old commissioner had been pronounced MIA shortly after Andross' death…

"Ha, no, O'Donnell, I do in fact, live on… and under a new title. I am now the ranking General of the entire Venomese army - second in command to the emperor himself!" He smirked with pride, now starting to pace across the room. "Amuro assumed my old rank after the promotion. May I say she has done a fine job _tracking down_ her department."

He indicated towards Leon and Wolf, the latter still sprawled disoriented and bleeding on the floor.

"With all _due respect_…" Leon began, coyly returning the stare. "The war is as good as over. Our forces have been crushed underfoot. Sending us against the Cornerian fleet at this standing would be a suicide mission."

"Perhaps. The armada has suffered great damage, and our emperor Andross lost what remained of his body in the midst of our defense." A pause, seemingly in reverence. "But we will not let his sacrifice go for nothing. We may not be able to see him, but he is still the master deity who is watching over our progress now, for his powers were far too great to exalt this world. We will continue to serve him until our duties have drawn to an end; and you, Powalski, have right to be ashamed. This war is anything but over. The resistance will never give up."

"If I may, sir," Amuro cut in, "But we will be needing O'Donnell's services in the future… and-"

"Yes. Of course." He spoke into his gauntlet. "Hodges! Dispatch one medical unit to Sector Z, coordinates 84 versus 93. Repeat, Sector Z, coordinates 84 versus 93."

Leon, at long last, tucked his phaser back into his uniform, but still consistently made eye contact.

"General Strype… You and-" Only grudgingly did he say it- "-_MHC Styx-_ are under cover."

"You noticed?" Came the reply, heavy with either sourness or sarcasm, it was indistinguishable. "Yes, as you can imagine, your mate O'Donnell made the Cornerian fleet's "most wanted" list… being the Venomese poster boy and all… But can you imagine who could _possibly_ occupy the leading two spots?

Yes, we based the idea of this interactive camouflage scheme off of one of our mighty leader Andross' emergency prototypes. There were a few rough spots - you can't just go and invent some new identity, as these camouflage devices-" He indicated towards the gauntlet on his wrist. "-cannot dream people up for you. They _can_, however, give off the illusion of another existing person, once that person's carbon structure and DNA have been scanned into the generator. Well, we were tickled at the idea of a spot on the Cornerian police fleet, so… we assaulted a renowned private squad… analyzed the bodies and assumed their lives."

Leon made no facial reaction up to this point; now, embracing the ingenuity of this diabolical plan, smiled.

Somewhere on the floor, Wolf gagged, a strangled kind of sound, and Strype kicked his side disdainfully.

"O'Donnell, you dishonor your name. Put aside the pain and rise."

The general turned to Leon.

"Has he been inebriated?"

"The stuff he got into was stronger than this drunkard's used to."

Strype chuckled, but whether it was in an amused or sinister way, or both… "Makes you wonder what the goody goodies have been doing behind closed doors."

Without even attempting to fake a laugh or smile, Leon brushed past the general and made his way to the window-wall, arms crossed, surveying the barren expanse of space that lay endlessly before him.

"With billions lost to troops, weapons, repairs, reinforcements… what does that leave for a team of mercenaries?" He asked casually. His tail swept from side to side behind him.

He was answered only with the sound of shuffling. Leon turned his head slowly, half-expecting to find himself eye-to-eye with the barrel of a gun. Instead, General Strype had come to stand beside him.

"Well… the best way to put it is this," he began. "In return for further services to the Venomese empire, you will retain your lives and freedom. But aren't those the most precious things of all?"

Leon snorted. "I believe the word you're looking for is 'blackmail.' You obviously have some way of tracking us. If we don't comply, you'll sell us out to Corneria."

"You understand now, Powalski," The tiger nodded, satisfied. "Well, I'm glad we had this talk."

--

**A/N :** I may have one baaaad record but I swear to God I'm going to update this.


	2. Drift Away

**Part II - Drift Away**

**-- -- -- -- --**

Absentmindedly, three thin green fingers nimbly glided the length of the cold, ridged stone. They hovered for a moment over a narrow slit in the rock, internalizing the texture. Then they moved again, and found the smooth iron bars that stood to the left of him. Leon stroked them with a gentle hand, mind having hazed over long ago, leaving him deep in the midst of his own thoughts. He was often so complex and over-analyzing that thinking overpowered him, but he could scarce resist his own mind.

Shadows slid up the wall, lit by torched lamps hanging from the ceiling. Instinctively taking note, his eyes came back into focus in time to catch the soft footsteps that signaled an arrival.

"We've been given 45 minutes' estimated arrival time. Be ready to await further orders once we've been cleared for landing." She announced. The spaniel was very lovely, with winds of golden hair and feminine blue eyes, and Leon knew that somewhere in space, her stiff body lay, frozen and abandoned.

His eyes remained locked in place, as if awaiting her continue.

"O'Donnell is being treated in the medical bay." She pressed on, almost mechanically. "His blood contained so much alcohol that we felt it best to keep him supervised until we can be sure he's thinking on a normal level."

There was a good remark about how Wolf, sans alcohol, was in fact not thinking on his normal level, but he knew she did not care to hear it more than he didn't care to utter it.

He felt her eyes on him, more so on his lithe joints and almost incorporeal form. It was haunting and intriguing, how ghostlike his frame, and how adept he was at simply gliding and slinking like a ribbon or a cobra. Just sitting, he was an eerie presence by himself, as though he could move at any moment and appear elsewhere, or simply disappear into thin air.

"Had you eaten yesterday?" She asked, point-blank.

"I'm afraid Wolf's shameless indulgence didn't do much for my own appetite." He replied curtly. "You could fetch me something, if you will." As if he were a rich man to a waitress rather a prisoner to their overseer.

She nodded, and her light footsteps faded away, her presence forgotten by all but the lone prisoner. His senses, now calm, allowed his mind to wander once more.

The spaniel was a good disguise. It masked a pale gray lizard with empty black eyes. It masked her voice, her tail… and even her mannerisms seemed undetectable when coming from this strange source.

It was so easy to forget that behind the image of the golden maiden was the woman who had murdered his daughter. The murder that had driven him insane, the insanity that had driven him to Andross. And it had all gone from there.

Presumably, based on his own inferences, Venom had just a small scattering left, small enough to be undetectable, but with a firm network. Perhaps Andross was dead, but the cleanup efforts had failed to rub out some very important characters, including himself.

He'd picked up bits and pieces from the news, which he watched to pass time in the abandoned outposts he and Wolf had a habit of hiding out in. Corneria was rebuilding, and the Interplanetary Alliance was starting to resurface after months of enemy infiltration, government corruption, and conflict. All the damage that Andross had done would be, in time, reversed. They were going up against an enemy so massive and determined, that if word leaked, the resistance would be quickly, and forcefully, crushed, with no more difficulty that StarFox had wasted entire fleets of Venomese fighters.

He was not scared, nor apprehensive; but it amused him, the relentless struggle for political correctness. Why was everyone so blind to all but their own opinions, and willing to shed blood for a futile cause? Wasn't that the background of the Venomese resistance in the first place?

Most people, he had decided long ago, fought for causes. He just enjoyed toying with fear. Clouding minds, driving victims to insanity, living out every last moment of faceless anticipation until the ripping sensation tore through them…

Most people lived for love: for their families and homes. Leon had none of these; just Wolf, and it looked like it would always be this way. He wasn't sure if he could call it love, per se; but he was the only being he associated with "home".

It was as simple as that, and he had never questioned it before.

--

"Commanding Officer Brinkley to Mission Control… Fugitives on board, repeat…"

General Strype, now the far less regal raccoon, sat in front of the radio, handling the details of the landing. Amuro, eyes blank, let her gaze wander from the flashing items on the radar. She took a tentative bite of the half-eaten jelly donut in her paw, an odd craving she developed from time to time. It wasn't bad, being beautiful. Even in her own youth, she hadn't felt quite like this. Reptilians, fairly uncommon to their furry counterparts, tended to live on quiet planets like Zoness and those that did choose to blend with modern society were generally not recognized for their looks.

The losers at the donut counter offered her the box free if she agreed to "do a little dance" for them. Two men in the line behind her laughed and cheered on the idea, so she went along for kicks. If you have a secret life, who says you can't do what you want to?

She had already brought Leon one of the donuts, having discovered their food supplies had run substantially low during their long trek to Sector Z. He definitely looked surprised at her choice of offering, especially whilst behind bars.

"We're cleared to land." The general announced, causing Amuro to snap back to reality. "Be at the ready, Styx. I don't want any of this space case nonsense."

Hesitantly, "Pardon, sir." She wanted to explain to him that it was hard to stop thinking about the pressures of her new job - managing the most elite of the Venomese forces. But it had just been his job, and he'd pulled through with results. She didn't want him thinking that she couldn't handle it. The first step in making an impression was an air of confidence.

As they approached the docking bay, she could feel the rumble of the engine for the first time, as pressure vibrated and echoed against walls rather than evaporating into empty space. Soon they had reached their designated "parking space", where a small panel of people, most of them technicians, stood on the balcony that overlooked their landing area.

The engine's roar died down in one final, fading wail and the raccoon that was General Strype waddled awkwardly down the ramp. They were greeted at once by an even shorter, stouter fellow wearing a lab coat, whom the two of them recognized at once.

"Ah, yes! Welcome, welcome, and congratulations, Cornelius!" He took Strype's paw and shook rapidly, excitement clear in his disposition. "Oh, and I don't believe we've met before, young lady." He took Amuro's hand and covered it with his other. "Please, it's Beltino Toad! A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Toad." She smiled, amazed at how sweet the sound of the voice that came out of her own mouth.

"Please, I'm Beltino." He chuckled, then turned back to the raccoon he believed to know.

"Cornelius Brinkley, here to confirm the successful possession of Wolf O'Donnell and Leon Powalski of Team StarWolf." Strype stated firmly to a man standing by, jotting down on his handheld computer. "Now then, Beltino, you will find O'Donnell in the medical unit attached to the ship's dorsal. He is inebriated and has suffered a gunshot wound to the left leg. Powalski is being held in the brig."

"I'll relay this to the PDP squad at once." Beltino chuckled, this time a bit less cheerily. "Just think, a year and a half after Andross' termination, and we're still picking up the pieces."

"We all knew it'd be a slow route to recovery," The faux Brinkley replied. "A _very_ slow route indeed."

--

At the prime of his life, Fox McCloud felt as though there were better uses of his time than, what he liked to call it, "running errands" for General Pepper. A year and a half after the most glorious adventure (and paycheck) of his young life, he was out of debt, at the least - but running a private ship and keeping several top-of-the-line vehicles in perfect shape was definitely a financial nightmare.

"Egh, I hate patrol duty." Falco spat into the radio, stating exactly what Fox had the perseverance not to. "Oh no, Fox. I think that cactus down there is calling me out."

"Enough of that, Falco. You know what could happen if we let something potentially dangerous slip past our watch. Titania is a dangerous place."

"Then why the heck is the government planning to settle people here!" Falco demanded, probably for the seventh time. "Even the insect life here is capable of leveling buildings! I'd love to see the men in suits try and sugarcoat that story - which you know they will."

"Once the electric fences are built, nothing will be able to get through." Fox repeated patiently. "They did this with Corneria too, in the beginning, Falco. It was uninhabitable as well."

"Well, Corneria's scarcely got a hint of nature left. I think the planet's made of metal, personally."

"Oh, quit whining, Falco." Slippy huffed. "This is the easiest money we're ever gonna get. It's either this, or we can help rebuild the sewage pipes in Zoness. Your choice."

"Look, all I'm sayin is that they coulda chose a better location. Alright, Corneria's getting crowded, I'll agree with that too. But why this desert rock, when there's Fortuna - "

Peppy finally spoke up. "Fortuna has been a dense jungle for millions of years. There are countless exotic diseases, and it would take an indefinite amount of time to come up with vaccines. There's a _reason_ we built the military outposts on Fortuna's barren ice caps."

Slippy sighed, turning his gaze back to the cockpit of his Arwing - then raised a brow, the gold light was flashing.

"Everyone! ROB's paging us!" pause. "He's gotten a transmission from my dad!"

_Thank God._ "Let's hear it!" Fox ordered, and Slippy pressed the button. "Alright, relaying…"

A synthetic voice came on over the radio. "Message from Beltino Toad - priority two, stating Powalski and O'Donnell have been located in Sector Z and are currently hostages of the government."

"_What?_!" Falco shouted, almost simultaneous with the end of the word "hostages".

Fox stared at the control panel in disbelief. He didn't so much care that it was the government doing and not his own, as long as Wolf and his team were put behind bars. But Falco was going to be in a foul mood; he'd make occasional comments about wanting to get at Powalski himself.

"Locations of Pigma Dengar and Andrew Oikonny - unknown?" he pressed.

"Affirmative."

Sinking into his seat, memories of the war returned to haunt Fox's mind. Wolf and Leon, behind bars - that was reassuring, at least, but he couldn't believe that it had been the smarter half of the team to get caught firsthand. He wondered, briefly, if Pigma and Andrew were even alive.

"I'm sure they'll turn up shortly. They couldn't have been far from the rest of the team, assuming they generally stayed together." Peppy sighed.

Still… something didn't seem right in Fox's mind. "ROB, was there a struggle?"

"None reported."

"Now, _that_ doesn't sound like the StarWolf we know," said Peppy, on everyone's behalf. "I can't believe they'd let themselves get taken in."

"I think the military musta just walked in on 'em while they were sleeping," Falco deduced irritably. "StarWolf would sooner get themselves blown up in a battle against 100 ships than put down their guns and surrender."

"I don't see what everyone is so upset about. We nabbed StarWolf, isn't that what counts?"

"We're all just naturally paranoid, Slip," Peppy explained, staring up into the vacant sky. "It seems out of character for Wolf and his team. It's just a bit suspicious."

Slippy sighed tiredly. "Just because there was no report of a struggle doesn't mean there wasn't one. The government usually saves full, uncut mission files in a top-secret location with tight access… My dad's been working with the Lylat reconstruction committee for more than a year, but half this stuff I didn't even know until a month ago. It's a very secretive business…" He fumbled quietly with his fingers.

Something suddenly caught Fox's eye. He had let his Arwing drift up into the lower atmosphere; even from up here, he could make out a small brown blur against the desert sand.

"That'll be enough detective, everyone. I think one of the natives is nearing the construction site. Falco, back me up. Everyone else, stay focused."

--

Wolf felt himself slip back into consciousness, gradually, still. The scent was highly unfamiliar.

The instant he opened his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with a blank white ceiling, highly unlike what he was used to seeing in the morning. He shot up, heart pounding, instinctively extending an arm to his belt, but there was no blaster, and there was no belt…

"W-where is this!" He demanded of the man standing next to him, a tall stag in doctors' apparel. The man had a gentle face, but his smile was more of a halfhearted, forced thing, and he didn't seem to want to make eye contact.

"Relax," He had out a clipboard. "You, Mr. O'Donnell, are in the hospital at the South Cornerian military outpost," He scribbled something. "Life doesn't get much better after this."

Wolf sighed bitterly. "…What are you recording! Is something wrong with me?"

"Groceries. Tuesdays are mine." He replied curtly. "And to answer your question, you're absolutely good to go. That leg wound was little more than a bullet graze. Still, you lost a fair bit of blood, that coupled with your inebriation is what knocked you out."

Wolf nodded awkwardly, more in shock than anything. Inebriation? What the hell did that mean? He decided not to voice this question.

"…How did I get here?" He demanded, yet another question.

"Two officers picked up you and your mate Powalski in Sector Z, and you are now prisoners of the Cornerian government." The stag replied calmly, still dabbing at his grocery list. "Questions? Ask now, the PDP will escort you to your new residence shortly."

"Leon too…?" Wolf muttered, more to himself than anything.

"Yes. From what I've heard, his hearing was delayed until you were able to attend court, so you could be tried at the same time."

The stag turned to his monitor, surprisingly unconcerned with the notion of having a most-wanted criminal behind him, weaponless or not. For the first time, Wolf noticed the discomfort around his wrists, and found out why - he was bound to the table, like one of Leon's hapless victims. The thought was fairly unnerving.

He lay back down, his mind still a blur. Even more unsettling was how he couldn't seem to remember a thing about his alleged capture. He expected the leg wound was from some kind of violent struggle, and it was a gunshot - it was ground combat. Were he and Leon hiding out in empty outposts again?

_"O'Donnell, you dishonor your name. Put aside the pain and rise."_

Eyes widening, he held on to that thought and struggled with all his might. It slipped away from him.

_"Fortunately, I'm not here to pick at grudges."_

It took him a second, but he recognized this voice. It was definitely that of Amuro Styx - four years had done little to make him forget. But… what had been _her_ business in this matter?

He gave up on these thoughts, instead focusing on the white, desolate tile of the ceiling in disbelief. He hated little more than losing. And he had been taken down unceremoniously, by a couple of police. Been it at the hands of StarFox, at least the conflict could have ended once and for all. In that situation, he was certain he'd rather have died then been taken prisoner, at the mercy of Fox's deranged form of government…

_"You just don't like to lose."_

He could just imagine Leon voicing those words that he heard in his mind; he was sitting at a chair, sipping whatever it was he usually sipped, eyes like slitted amber lights against his own, dark and searching…

A couple of lightly armored men appeared at the door and tossed something in his face.

"Get dressed. You're going to jail."


	3. Danger Danger

**Part III - Danger Danger**

**-- -- -- -- --**

The room was uncannily quiet.

General Pepper had a face worn down with age; his cheeks sagged, his eyes drooped, but the skin still clung to the same angular bone structure, which let him maintain that tough look which he was famous for. He leered around the room, looking like an entirely different man around his committee than he did to his fonder familiars.

"I see we have a new arrival," He spoke, nodding to the stunning young woman that stole all the focus away from suits and ties. "Your name, Miss?"

Commanding Officer Brinkley sat beside her, and opened his mouth instead. "This is my assistant, General. Lucifia Ferie."

"Ah. Er," The General cleared his throat, obviously dismayed that one of his leading officers had decided to bring a cadet into the meeting. "Well, how do you do. Now then… You all know why we're here…"

A broad squirrely sort of man took a stand, his hair a garbled mess, his tail wild and tie hastily fastened. "E-excuse me, sir. I got here as fast as I could once I heard the news. Um, seeking clarification: O'Donnell and Powalski are being held hostage after previously assumed dead?"

"Correct, Mr. Edgar." Pepper unfolded the article in front of him; it was a large planetary map that scaled the length of the committee table itself. "We've had countless squadrons turning over the galaxy for the past year and a half. If StarWolf managed to slip by under our noses for this long, it doesn't necessarily mean they're the only ones. Now, my main concern is - yes, Brinkley?"

"Sir, with all due respect…" The raccoon began, and already Pepper felt something unwanted coming. "Stragglers left over from the Venomese army surely cannot pose too significant of a threat to overcome if we don't even have evidence of suspicious activity."

"I'm not saying Venom is building armies behind our back." Pepper retaliated. "But Andross, though a fool, was brilliant, and I wouldn't be surprised if some of his ideas outlived him. If even a ragtag band of loyalists got together a twisted weapon of mass destruction, well, that's one twisted weapon too many."

"Andross has left endless chaos in his wake." A bat, on Pepper's opposite end, muttered. "We must put forth more effort into the reconstruction rather than worrying about a problem that may not even exist."

"Well, actually, I agree, General. Aquas currently has 239 endangered species, an 85 increase since before the Venomese attack," A middle-aged horse woman pointed out. "And the attempts to habilitate Titania are running behind schedule."

Pepper sighed; in about three seconds he would be expected to have answers to everything, or he would fail to live up to his name. One… Two…

"Pardon me." Brinkley put in. "May I send my assistant to the coffee machine? Can't tell you how dreadfully exhausted I am after that mission… Oh, she'll need your signature if she wants re-entry, General."

"Very well." He growled, as she ambled up and handed him paper and a pen. He hastily scribbled down his name and sent her off with it.

"Now, back to the matter at hand, if you will, Brinkley…"

The golden spaniel gently shut the door behind her, heavy voices still seeping through the walls. She doubted very much that Pepper would've granted her leave unless he didn't particularly want her around in the first place.

Once she was away, a presence only her own, an unusual sensation swept over her. She wasn't used to people watching her when she wasn't commanding attention. Some of the men at the table, less interested in the subject than they ought have been, let their eyes drift over hair, eyes, lips, chest… It was odd that this didn't offend her. She pretended not to notice their eyes, but she could feel their presence oh-too-well, after years of precision training on Venom…

Her footsteps fell like snow. Quickly and quietly she tread past doors upon doors. No one stood in her path as she strode over the tape that shut off one set of stairs from the rest of the tangled complex…

She trotted down the steps, took a turn.

You could hardly tell it was a military complex. Untidy tile floors and scaly ceilings littered the halls. Once, a much larger (much more financed) structure had stood here, with stainless steel walls and iron doors that seemed to bleed with heavily-clad security guards. But that was before the great battle. Andross had an elite fleet tear this place down at the very first outbreak of war…

Musty ceiling lights showed a burly feathered figure up ahead, staring her down as she approached. She got closer; the lights now exposed red and purple plumage, revealing him to be a parrot.

"May I help you, ma'am?" He asked, in a surprisingly gentle voice. He too took one brief, fleeting glance over her golden body as she stepped forward.

"Yes, I'd like to question the fugitives, if you please."

He didn't need to ask which ones. "Hey, you're the one who brought them in, aren't ya?" He realized suddenly, the attitude written on his face now much different. "You and that Brinkley fellow… Well, still, I'm sorry, I'll need to see a written grant. We're keeping security tight, you know."

"Ah yes, of course, here, the General gave me this…"

She handed him the paper, and he raised a brow, noticing Pepper's authentic signature at the bottom. He started scanning the rest of the document, oblivious to the woman fiddling with a silver gauntlet on her wrist…

"Hmm… This doesn't seem to bear any mention to the prisoners at all-"

Something flashed, blinding him for a moment. "Christ! What _was_ that?"

When his eyes started working again, he saw not a beautiful golden spaniel, but a lizard woman, pale and gray, with dark black bags under her eyes, which were the most vacant things he'd ever seen…

His eyes fell on the gun. Her spiny tail swished behind her.

"W-who are you!" He demanded, mouth left agape.

"Amuro Styx. Venomese Commissioner. Charmed, sir…"

The laser was on silent fire, and the only sound was a heavy thud as he collapsed to the floor.

Amuro smirked darkly, refusing to look at the body. She did what she did out of loyalty, not bloodlust. She adjusted the laser again and fired - the body was gone, and so was the ash before it even hit the ground.

She pressed some buttons on her gauntlet and changed forms again; for the first time, an avian. Attempting what she believed to be a 'manly swagger', she - or he - navigated her way through the maze of tunnels and halls, guided by the intensity of the stench of mold and dirt. A few others, presumably fellow sentinels, nodded to "him" as he passed by, oblivious to what he _really_ was.

Creeping into her destination, tentatively; fingering her laser to confirm it was still there... she took a look around and stopped, spellbound.

The ceiling was high and, she was guessing, thick. It looked more like a ballroom lined with rooms than prison.

Her jaw hung slightly. She'd been in jail multiple times before, all kinds of jails. Venomese jails, visiting Cornerian prisoners, sometimes to talk when there was none else, sometimes to exploit her authority - _by whatever means she felt like_, it mattered not to the overseers. She'd also been in Cornerian jails "for the average punk" - never to actually serve time, she was always bailed or busted. But this was definitely no place for the average punk.

Large metal cells, who knew of what composition, lined in a row. But unlike most jail cells, in lieu of steel bars, they had what seemed to be a semitransparent blue wall - an A Class force field, she recognized at once.

She strolled past the rows of cells, keeping her glances strictly brief. These were reserved for only the biggest of baddies; the most despicable, hostile scoundrels in Lylat. Anyway, brief glances were relatively simple to do, as many of these criminals clearly hadn't bathed - or changed clothes - in years, and more still were battered to the point of disfiguration, with entire tufts of fur gone and chunks of ears missing…

Her eyes did catch on one man, whose time in jail hadn't done much to his sublimity. From what she could tell, he was a leopard, lean and muscular, and with both ears intact, with what seemed considerable patience; he was lounging next to a very small window, also from the looks of things force fielded. Possibly a newcomer, she concluded, or someone very good at staying sane.

She wondered why none of them paid her any mind. Surely _somebody_ in the house of the damned was curious enough to just spare a passing glance, or were they all such hardened criminals that they didn't care anymore?

The next cell over, however - she recognized them at once. Wolf was pacing their floor space impatiently, apparently raging about something - though she heard nothing, likening the scene to a muted TV show, rediscovered in the living room some time later. Leon sat, completely indifferent, like many of the criminals she'd seen. But he was the only one so far with a smile, albeit a creepy, smug one.

Peering over her shoulder, she finally noticed the guards - everywhere. She remembered seeing them before but the thought had never really registered.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. A brown doxen, about a head shorter than the parrot she was mimicking, stood poised near Wolf and Leon's cell, eyes narrow and untrusting.

"If I 'member correctly, you're supposesta be guardin' the _doh_," He drawled, arms crossed. "No, wait - yer on hallway patrol, ain'tcha? Sorry pal, hey, this ain't the place fer ya-"

"Oh, Reidson," At this voice, the doxen shot into a salute, straightening up his posture.

"SIR!"

Amuro's feathered eyes seemed to smirk without her mouth ever moving.

"Reidson, allow me to talk with this fellow here," the source was a brawny brown badger in an intricate uniform. Scarcely had this word been spoken had the doxen taken off.

The badger watched his departure, chuckling.

"So Corneria has _these_ kinds of idiots guarding dangerous fugitives," Amuro mused with a smirk.

"Couldn't agree more. Amuro Styx, I am Deputy Wilkins, but you can call me Panther Caroso - most people do. It is, shall we say, an honor to finally meet you in person."

--

Leon sat in quiet silence, watching Wolf build himself into a rage. The truth of their current position had finally hit him - full front.

"We got so damn careless, THAT'S the problem," he snapped in his companion's face, as if he had said something highly disputable to start with. Leon was making him possibly even more agitated by just sitting and smiling coyly, tail coiling and uncoiling lazily behind him, because he could just couldn't get it to lay still…

"I do seem to recall your voicing an urgent need for an alcoholic splurge." The reptile mentioned, bravely given Wolf's state of mind.

At this, Wolf poised to strike, but aimed elsewhere. He heaved a tight fist into the wall, and the utter rage swallowed the pain. Soon he had drawn blood from his own hide, ripping and clawing whatever happened to be satisfying - namely, his own person. Leon stopped smiling, watching Wolf tear himself up. This was far less amusing than his childish tantrums. Ordinarily, the thought of somebody ripping themselves apart would've been quite a good watch, but this was no anybody.

"Wolf…" he coaxed gently, rising from his seat.

"Get away! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Wolf screamed, but otherwise made no signs of threat. In an instant, Leon stood directly in front of him, apparently having disregarded these orders, before relaxing against his companion chest-to-chest, fingers aptly stroking the fur at the base of his neck. Wolf shivered all over and clenched his eyes shut. It was like being embraced by a phantom; you could sense somebody there, but didn't dare look.

"Still afraid to lay a finger on me, I see…" The velvety voice, though whispered, seemed far too loud when uttered directly into his ears.

Wolf wasn't about to deny that Leon's favorite pastimes scared him - hell, mortified him sometimes, even. Peoples' faces, frozen into wide gapes of terror, eyes wide open in a state of eternal shock, all staring down at him like gruesome trophies… He didn't like being touched by those same fingers which had committed such vile things, as if he too would one day end up barred down to a table, with Leon, unfalteringly, disfiguring him, ripping him apart…

The whisper came again. "Don't be afraid of me, Wolf…"

Panic having subsided enough to let him think, Wolf collected his wits and managed to duck out of the reptile's hold, backing up into the wall. Leon, though suddenly supported by nothing, reconstructed his poise just as suddenly as Wolf had acted.

"It is pitiful to fear me, Wolf." Leon acknowledged, conceding to his own corner of the cell. "I am all that you have left."

Wolf felt those eyes on him, but refused to return the gaze.

"Why don't I just die now, then?"

If this remark affected Leon on any emotional level, it didn't seem to show. Slowly, he returned to his seat, and continued to sit, still as a manikin, save for the tip of his tail, which continued that hypnotic, yoyo-esque motion.

"You don't mean that," He commented, with a straight face.

"Damn right I do." Wolf snapped viciously, baring his teeth, outer lips quivering with rage. "I'd rather rot alone in this cell than try and keep myself sane around _you_!"

"You're a chronic liar," Leon stated, unabashedly. "And a chronic alcoholic. Sometimes I wonder how often you speak what's _really_ on your mind."

The lupine's panting only quickened. Leon had to fight back a smile; he loved toying with him, pushing his buttons. "You wanna know what's on my mind? About how I spent a year and half running from Fox and his damned cult, got captured by a couple police and locked in a hellhouse where a sadist is trying to seduce me?"

With that, one final grunt of anger, and he leaned forward with his face to the wall, panting heavily.

Leon did not expect an answer, but he knew Wolf would be listening -

"You allow yourself to be consumed by your emotions. Had you listened, I would have told you - we have not lost."

As if on cue, one of the walls suddenly ceased and desisted, giving them instead one wide-open view of the hallway, where a badger and a parrot stood watching them calmly.

"Come on," The lizard continued, as Wolf simply stood, wide-eyed and in shock. "The _party's_ just begun!"

--

General Pepper came running as soon as the alarm went off, several panicked members of his panel following suite. A woman's voice, choppy and wavering, came on over the intercom. "Security breach, repeat, maximum level security breach! All armed personnel to the imprisonment chambers immediately!"

Brinkley's awkward waddle hastened into an equally awkward run, trying to keep up with Pepper and his faster subordinates. Hopefully, all had gone according to plan…

Throwing caution to the wind Pepper and his business suit-clad shadows arrived in the dungeon. Bodies - they were everywhere. His heart felt heavy in his throat.

"No…" His jaw dropped. The teleporter, ordinarily used to send backup troops or supplies as they were needed, was open and previously active; a badger lay in front of it, hand with a gun to the floor, bleeding wound in the side of his head.

"…Officer Wilkins…" Pepper bowed his head in reverence, forcing himself to swallow. He grimly surveyed the surrounding premises. The other prisoners, funnily, were oblivious to the entire ordeal. They sat same as ever, stone silent on their perches. The force field gave off the illusion of an ordinary wall from within the cell, almost the same as a one-way window; it also didn't allow sound to pass through. They hadn't the slightest notion about what had just happened in the previous five minutes.

"…General! These soldiers have just been stunned!" Mr. Edgars exclaimed. He had his ear to a fallen doxen's chest. "This one, at least. But I think they're all alive!"

"That's something. Definitely something." Pepper dragged his eyes off of Wilkins' body once more. The shock was still agonizing. How could such a disaster have come and gone with so little struggle, and right under his nose…

He spoke into a radio. "Send the medical corps at once! We have stunned, possibly wounded soldiers. An officer dead. Pepper, out." He cared not to specify their location, he trusted they'd heard the news already.

It made no sense… The teleportation module had an authorization code that he shared with Officer Wilkins. But he refused to believe a close friend could help two dangerous fugitives escape - and then commit suicide for it. It sounded like the thing that could happen to a corruptible man with morally flawed - not jaunty, firm Herald Wilkins.

"Sir… I believe it's safe to say that you have a lot of fires to put out," The bat remarked.

Pepper kept his back to the speaker, voice cross.

"I'm not worried about that right now."

--

**A/N:** 800 kudo points to anyone who knows what kind of lizard Amuro is… It's all in the name, so, with a tad of unscrambling, not too hard if you know your scalies ;D

Reviews would make me very happy?


	4. Aboard the Red Rose

**Part IV - Aboard the Red Rose**

**-- -- -- -- --**

With his good eye, Wolf watched Corneria disappear in the distance.

"It's a shame we left without a _proper_ farewell." Came that voice from behind him, breaking that quiet spell of observation he got when trying to comprehend space and its endlessness.

Leon sat, half-embedded in a very rich sofa, his slit-like eyes now fixed on the stars. He seemed pleased. Wolf found his legs siding with the idea and collapsed next to him without a second thought. They sat in front of a reinforced holofield window that scaled the length of the wall at the rear of the ship, allowing them a full panorama of their surroundings.

"I want one of these." Wolf gestured, not to the sofa, but the entire spacecraft. He mindlessly extended an arm over his neighbor's chest to grab the glass bottle that so conveniently sat perched on the table. "Better than the scrap metal we were left with after the war."

Leon seemed oblivious to Wolf's remark. "I see getting busted out of prison has doused tensions a bit,"

Wolf just glared at him sourly, deciding _not_ to pursue the subject. He thumbed off the cap effortlessly, and no sooner did he than the bottle pounded against his lips.

He thought about Fox McCloud.

Pampered, heir to a Herculean mothership, and a legion of followers willing to cater to his every whim. As far as Wolf was concerned, he wouldn't last a day doing dog work for the _Venomese_ military, where the wrong word could mean swift and abrupt execution. McCloud was skilled, naturally, but could he fend for himself in the real world?; it seemed, even in Fox's adulthood, Hare was babysitting the brat.

If only, Wolf mused, he could tear down Corneria's mighty hero in front of a million spectators; simply wipe him clean out of the sky, engines smoking, alarm wailing - as the legendary son of James McCloud went down with his legacy behind him.

Eerily, Leon's pupils slid across the room. His tongue slowly poked between his lips just slightly, but it was enough, giving him an extraordinary understanding of things beyond the boundaries of normal senses. Wolf's heartbeat, rate of breathing, and body heat spelled out thoughts of violence and of revenge. Just from the empty air he could taste the alcohol - the scent lay scattered about him.

Wolf was silent. In the confines of his mind, Fox McCloud slowly - agonizingly - died, at the hands of his nemesis. Even after their lifelong grudge match, somehow, it was unsatisfying… a hollow victory. And then, suddenly, Leon was there, surrounded by bodies, some strung up on the wall like tapestries, others draping off of tables, many separated from limbs, or heads…

His breath quickened and he abandoned the thought immediately, forcing himself to ignore the aftertaste it left in his mind. He peered around the room nervously, then let his eyes rest on the source of the sounds of typing.

They had all but forgotten about the badger, who had been stationed broodingly at the control panel for a good hour. They didn't know about him, still, such as who he really was or what position he had in the Venomese military, except that he was clearly involved in the plot that Amuro and Strype had described to them.

Wolf seemed to have abandoned his fantasies. He nodded towards their host, lowering the bottle for a moment but leaving Leon to leer in disdain at the liquid that dribbled down his chin. He decided to bring up, again, what he had been dwelling on for a while now. "Why aren't they telling us _anything_…?"

"Isn't it obvious, Wolf? We're just pawns in this plot, in other words, _tools_ of the Venomese military's will. And we're not in a position yet where we can do anything about it," Leon answered, voice still ridden with his same bored droll, like an automated machine. His indifference, it was-

"I guess that's the life we chose." Wolf growled. "But what was the point of being captured and thrown in prison if they were just planning to bust us out the next day?"

Leon was a complex individual, and the answer was so simple to him, and Wolf's narrow-mindedness was almost befuddling. But he had scarcely begun to speak than the badger stirred at last, and Leon abandoned the effort to watch.

Presently, across the room, he spoke.

"Why, because of conflict."

Spinning around and rising from his seat, he finally let his eyes catch upon his new "houseguests." Little more than Wolf's height, and from the looks of things twice as old, he sauntered over, keeping his eyes locked with Wolf's own, even as he came to stand next to the plush sofa.

"Welcome aboard, gentlemen," he spoke, in a voice much unlike the one they had just heard. "I am honored to introduce you to the Red Rose."

Wolf, liquor forgotten, sat frozen with his eyes fixed on the speaker and his unmistakable lisp. It wasn't even startling when the badger's long red fur began to darken and his aged figure reconstruct itself. Immediately afterwards came the emergence of a long, prehensile black tail and round, stubby ears. The change was swift and abrupt but the results so high in contrast. There was a small flash, and no hint of the badger stood where the panther did now.

Leon chuckled oddly.

"Who better to rescue us than Mr. Caroso, Venom's own rogue womanizer," He mused slowly, without regards to his position - a fugitive escapee on someone else's ship.

"Is that what they call me now?" Came the velvety response, coolly spoken, much as Wolf's opposite. "A pet name of the public, I assure you."

As he stared down at his guests there was a new, ominous glint in his eyes, now bright green and feline, the most easily distinguished characteristic of his person, figure shrouded with midnight black fur. The gray tank top (bearing the insignia of the red rose) and snug beige khakis did little as far as professionalism went, but his impressive reputation around Lylat had room to accommodate casual dress.

Wolf stood, jaw noticeably unhinged, and approached their host soundlessly. Gradually, Panther smiled, and extended a hand towards him.

"I knew one day I'd be busting you out of prison."

However wounded his pride, Wolf grinned in return, taking Panther's hand with his own and shaking firmly. The latter peered over Wolf's shoulder briefly, but Leon appeared to have already returned his attention to the endless web of stars around them.

"At least we've had jobs," Wolf rallied, despite how he felt about that statement. "How the devil do you plan to pay off this ship? Bringing whores aboard and then selling them to make a profit?"

Panther shook his head, chuckling. "I've a lover in Walston who believes us to be affianced. She gave me the ship as what I like to call a _parting gift_. Her father left her a particularly lavish lifestyle, you see…"

Wolf gazed around the room in newfound awe. "You know how I always felt about your obsession with women… but now I think I have to commend you on the approach."

"And what a difference it makes. We're faring a bit differently these days," Panther noted slyly, letting his eyes roam about his ship. "But you certainly haven't changed much. I see you and the lizard still match. Black turtlenecks and raggedy jeans, those wouldn't by any chance be patronage to the old gang?"

"We just couldn't outgrow them." Wolf sniggered in spite of himself.

"Not to mention how being most-wanted fugitives for over a year hasn't done a lot for our wardrobe." Leon added bitterly, but otherwise made no indication that he was paying attention to the conversation.

They turned their back to him. Panther began to speak, a distant look in his eye. "Ah yes, Wolf, I must explain. Word spread quickly around Corneria that you had been imprisoned. And now just one day later, as the public now grasps situation, a trusted public figure of impressive military rank betrays the planet and lets you go."

"They're scared."

"Some of them. But most have turned rebellious. In the past hour, the public feedback has already been staggering." Panther indicated towards a small screen by the control panel, set to Cornerian news. Entire flocks of people stood in the streets, and a monotonous hum issued from the screen, like the sound of many voices turned to one. "They expect a government conspiracy."

A voice from the couch. "I expected so much."

Panther turned around, an irritable hint to his voice now. "Is that so, Powalski? …Tell me, are you still at that hideous hobby of yours?"

Leon didn't flinch or react, just kept his tone dignified as if he were talking to children. "Irrelevant question."

"He is."

Panther wrinkled his nose. "Really."

"What were you expecting?" Wolf's response was flat.

The black cat's eyes lay heavy on the man who sat on the couch. He still had that uncaring aura to him, just as he always had, even when the rest of them were angry or upset. He was dignified, reserved, well-spoken, calm in all situations, and seemingly impassive, save for the pleasure he got from both peace and extreme insanity. Behind that mask of indifference, he knew, was a disturbing addiction to cruelty.

"I enjoy being lawless." He confided to Wolf, still watching the reptile. "But apparently some of us psychotic things with no motive but leisure." At Wolf's startled look, Panther added, "Powalski and I both know that I think him a dirty maniac."

"Whoremonger. Bed-hopper. Philanderer. Lothario. Prostitute." Leon smirked, but whether in satisfaction or distaste… "Shall I go on?"

Panther quivered and tensed. Visibly. "Anyway," He turned to Wolf again, his tone now stretched tight. "We have been ordered to await Strype's instructions. Be ready."

And he turned his back to them and walked out the door, into whatever room lay beyond it.

"For someone who claims to enjoy lawlessness, it seems as though he's just as much of a pawn as we are." Leon noted at once.

Wolf wordlessly fell to the couch again, breathing deeply. Leon quickly flicked his tongue, a habit that Wolf had become accustomed to over the years, and now commonly accepted as part of the reptile's being. "Your thoughts are a mess." Leon concluded after a moment, always sounding so sure of it. "You're tense… amazed."

"Well, yes." The lupine spat, frustrated that Leon could seem so omniscient. "What are the odds. It's been years, I can't believe that he - ugh, dammit. Look at this place." He glared up at the high ceiling, then at the plush black carpet.

"It's not a coincidence. The three of us have a history. General Strype wants to use that to his advantage."

"Panther could've told us." His companion hissed bitterly, apparently not done ranting. "While we groveled before Andross, he was busy playing women and taking joyrides around the galaxy in _this thing_."

"Which is why _he_ has never earned himself respect." Wolf looked at him oddly. "He's useless."

"And he's any different than _you_! If you both get your kicks out of deceiving people-"

"There is a difference…" Leon began, voice rising. "Between having someone at your mercy and having someone _around your finger _like an affectionate_ worm_."

Wolf snorted. "Is there?"

Abruptly, Wolf's world spun 90 degrees. His head hurt. There wasn't time to think about the possibilities before he felt weight on his legs, chest, shoulders, knocking the air out of him.

_What the hell, Leon! _But he couldn't find his voice, and he felt his face contorted into shock - the lizard was over him, in so swift a motion he had not detected it. He was a lot heavier than his lithe form appeared, and Wolf found that he could not struggle, or perhaps couldn't find the strength to…

"Do you want me to show you the difference?" Came the reptile's voice. It was slow, deep, dark, and bore more resemblance to a sort of whispered hiss. He let those fingers venture into Wolf's dirty, dry fur, and Wolf felt their presence on his cheek suddenly, but still too stunned to react.

He could never find himself when Leon was touching him like this. It tended to happen when either of them was extremely angry - in Wolf's case, it was eerie and caused more shudders than anything else, as if it was Leon's twisted way of consoling him. But when the lizard was upset - and rarely would this occur…

Now Leon chuckled, albeit darkly. "Wolf. You're terrified."

Wolf could say nothing - just maintained eye contact, breath wavering unsteadily out of him. He felt as if he were slipping out of his own body, and that he couldn't control his limbs anymore. It seemed like Leon could only take so much and then he was quick to anger - he was also especially sensitive to certain subjects. But why would he do this; pin Wolf underneath him as if they were lusty lovers…

"Talk." The reptile urged him, now with an icy smile. "I didn't have to tell you a minute ago."

The vulpine shook his head, studying his assailant carefully. "Get… off of me. You shouldn't do this anymore…"

"Was that an order?" Leon pressed.

Wolf shut his good eye and focused the muscles in his arm. If he caught him by surprise, maybe… But before he could move, he felt Leon's own grip tighten its hold.

"You're going to have to be more subtle."

The infamous Tormentor inclined forward, until Wolf could make out individual scales on his face. Even now his eyes darted all over, as if they were following the movements of an invisible enemy. His prisoner, however, made no effort to slow the advance, nor was he able to rip his eyes off of the face which drifted ever closer.

He shut his eyes again, though now fearful of what would happen to him.

…Something warm and wet, suddenly, at the base of his neck! …He wanted so bad to squirm and struggle, but his joints had all been securely fastened to the cushions by his captor's own. A shiver crawled up his spine and he groaned, uneasy. This was so, so wrong, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought.

He clenched his eyes tighter. The skin beneath his fur dragged along with - what he could only assume was Leon's tongue - a bit, pulling it tight across his bones. Why was this? Was he being _tortured_?

As the chameleon's tongue traveled the journey now up Wolf's chin and cheek, in from the door on the right came Panther, and his presence was never so gladly welcomed.

Leon did not stop, however, merely lifted his gaze with one swerve of his eyes. Panther, eyes set on the scene before him, stood frozen in place, without making a sound, until-

"Have I _interrupted_ anything?"

He would've chuckled out loud - apparently _some things_ had changed - but then he caught a glimpse of Wolf's eye, which had just been alerted to his presence. Panther was awestruck at what he saw within them; helplessness, desperation, anxiety. _It's a call for help?_

Hardly a second passed after this realization before Panther stood before them, and Wolf saw his fist approaching for a split second before suddenly, a loud sound of contact above him. He was amazed - amazed that someone could approach them so openly and land that punch, although Leon had definitely seen it coming, and easily could have evaded it. The lizard's unconscious form, no longer with the will to support himself, collapsed on top of Wolf for a moment before Panther roughly gripped Leon by the shoulders and dropped him to the floor.

Even as Wolf sat up, panting furiously, he kept his eyes on the reptile's face, where a trickling of blood was already appearing right above his eye. Panther watched him seriously, taking in the slack of Wolf's jaw, the dilation of his pupils, his uneven breath…

Wolf was slapped.

"The hell's wrong with you?" The black cat demanded, as Wolf slowly turned his head to look at him again, eyebrow now heavy upon his one eye, baring his teeth just slightly. Why was he playing the part of the damsel in distress? In his frustration he was tempted to have at Panther, but he was also aware that his own faults were his alone.


End file.
